


off the record

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: SASO 2017 [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Challenge: Sports Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2017, Journalist AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 11:11:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11160687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: In which Suga is a journalist, and he's getting under Kita Shinsuke's skin one way or another.





	off the record

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SASO 2017 Bonus Round 1: AUs | [originally posted here](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/21522.html?thread=11074066#cmt11074066)

_Earl Grey._ Of course it would be Earl Grey. Everything about Kita Shinsuke is bergamot-scented.  
  
"Milk, please," says Suga pleasantly, as Kita sets the saucer down in front of him. "No lemon necessary.”  
  
Kita returns his smile without missing a beat, reaches under his rosewood desk and produces a small jug of milk. Suga valiantly resists the urge to ask him what he _doesn't_ keep under his desk. It's like Doraemon's pocket in there, and he's been around a few times now, maybe more. Often enough.  
  
Kita sits back down in his swivel chair, crosses his legs and waits. He manages to do so without so much as a wrinkle appearing in his jacket. He is, as always, immaculate.  
  
Suga takes his time tipping a splash of milk into his tea. He picks it up and takes a small sip, makes a great show of the appreciative little hum he lets out as he beams across the table at Kita, who’s laced his fingers in his lap, expression unchanged.  
  
“This is good tea. Thank you, Kita-san.”  
  
“You’re welcome, Sugawara.”  
  
“Please, call me Suga. All my friends do.”  
  
Kita doesn’t bat an eyelid as he looks Suga straight in the eye, asks, “Are we friends?”  
  
Suga puts down his cup and leans forward, a wounded smile playing on the corners of his lips. He’s not sure if it’s the hot tea, or if the room’s suddenly grown warmer; there’s a heat pooling around his collar, and if his palms weren’t sweating and he could figure out a way to do so _suavely_ , he’d reach up and loosen his tie. He’s almost certain the room _has_ grown warmer. It’s probably one of Kita’s secretaries messing with the air conditioning, and Suga will put his money on the noisy twin—or maybe the quiet one—he can never quite tell, with those two.  
  
“Listen, we’re off the record now…”  
  
“We’re never off the record, Sugawara,” Kita interrupts, smoothly. “But go on. I’m all ears.”  
  
Suga barely stops himself from slipping into an unbecoming pout, then thinks better of it and lets it slip anyway.  
  
“We _are too_ off the record. I sent Asahi back ahead to the van and all. With the cameras!”  
  
“You’re still here,” Kita points out.  
  
Suga sighs and spreads his hands. “I’m still here. Empty-handed. No recording devices, okay? I promise.”  
  
Kita raises his eyebrows.  
  
“I didn’t think about that. An oversight. I’ll get Osamu to frisk you the next time you come.”  
  
From anyone else, it would’ve been a joke. From Kita Shinsuke, Inarizaki Corp.’s famously enigmatic Managing Director, it _could_ be a joke, and likely wasn’t, and Suga wouldn’t find out till he tried it. Either way, he’d probably live to regret his decisions.  
  
“So,” he hears himself say brightly, because he has a death wish, “there’s gonna be a next time, huh?”  
  
Kita doesn’t answer, merely tilts his head, almost imperceptible. But it’s not for nothing Suga’s been on this beat for years, that he has gained access to this inner sanctum, learned Kita Shinsuke and all his subtleties like a fine-tuned instrument. He knows how this slow dance goes.  
  
“ _Anyway_ , I’ve been wondering! Which one’s Osamu?”  
  
“The quiet one.”  
  
“Ah.” Suga nods. Kita continues.  
  
“His attention to detail is better than Atsumu’s. Atsumu’s only there to distract you with nonsensical chatter while Osamu frisks you. He’s good at that.”  
  
Suga laughs in delight. “So you _do_ have a sense of humour. How charming. Why don’t you ever show that for the camera?”  
  
“I have an excellent sense of humour,” says Kita, dryly. “And that’s why I don’t show it for the camera. Why are you still here, Sugawara? Aren’t we done with the interview?”  
  
“Like I said, we’re off the record. And off the record, Kita-san…”  
  
Suga pauses, takes a short breath that flutters in his stomach like so many butterflies. Kita shifts in his seat. The tiniest furrow appears in his brow as his hands tighten in his lap, relax again. His shoulders are _always_ so tense. He looks like he could use a good massage. Suga files this capital idea away for the promised _next time_.  
  
This time, he lowers all his own guards, says, sincere, “I think we should be friends.”  
  
Kita’s silent, for a while. Suga stands his ground, determined; he breaks out into a sunlit smile and then loosens his tie anyway, _looking suave_ be damned because if there is one thing he’s learned about Kita Shinsuke, it is that honesty is currency, and sometimes he just needs enough air, and space to be himself. To perhaps, one day—even let that mask of his slip—  
  
The ghost of an answering smile flashes across Kita’s face before he swivels his chair around to face the windows. It is a gesture Suga does not recognise. It is, he realises with a start, the first time Kita has bothered to hide his expression from him.  
  
(He thinks he can take it as a win, for now.)  
  
“When I turn around, Suga-san,” Kita says, calm as ever, “you will have finished your tea, and your number might be on my desk, and this off-the-record conversation might never have taken place.”  
  
Behind his teacup, Suga grins innocently.  
  
“What conversation?” he asks, voice light and breezy, and reaches for a pen.


End file.
